


Soul

by CynicalMistrust



Series: The Pattern of Feathers [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Beach Sex, Bottom Castiel, Death, First time as a human anal sex, Human Castiel, M/M, POV Castiel, Showers, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalMistrust/pseuds/CynicalMistrust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~Part 7 of Pattern of Feathers~</p><p>Sam, Dean, and Cas have been through a lot together. Now that things have settled down and they are no longer faced with a choice between their lives or the world, maybe they can start to put their lives back together again.</p><p>~Castiel's grace is fading, and fast. In his last moments, he's given a choice.~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul

Cas cracked his eyes open where he’d… dozed off next to Dean. It had certainly not been a trance and he knew the last of his grace was finally fading. There hadn’t been much left of it, and the state of his wings that left him earthbound left much to be desired. He’d conserved what little grace he had, not that he had much choice when he couldn’t fly, but such small amount of grace could not sustain him forever. It’d taken longer than he’d expected, but… his time was nearing. He wouldn’t kill other angels just to drag his wretched life along. He was sure the only thing that had sustained him this long was Dean.

How was he going to say goodbye to Dean? He couldn’t exactly say they’d see each other again; he had no soul. Once he died… He wasn’t sure where angels went when they died. Perhaps they simply returned to the stars from whence they came.

He slid off the bed, found his discarded shirt and a pair of Dean’s sweats. Night had fallen hours ago, and a crisp breeze from the east fluttered the curtains. He looked out the window and spotted Dean on the beach, standing in the water a few feet off shore. Neither of them moved for a long while, Dean watching whatever it was that held his attention, Cas watching Dean, memorizing the lines of his body.

He finally turned, making his way down the stairs and out to the beach so he could watch Dean from closer, wading his way out to stand near the human he’d sacrificed so much for. 

Dean tilted his head, acknowledging him without turning. “You were sleeping.”

Cas closed his eyes a moment, wishing this could have been easier. “Yes.”

Dean turned then, staring at him with blank eyes that reminded him of the Mark, and when he spoke his voice was just as empty. “How long?”

“I don’t know… Days. Maybe.” He wasn’t sure it would even be that long. He’d been hiding it for a while now, felt weaker every day, and as much as he enjoyed their sex he had a feeling it only quickened his decline.

Dean clenched his jaw, closing the distance between them, gripping Cas’ shirt in both hands with a growl. “I can’t lose you again, Cas.” There was a strain in his voice and his hands shook where they were fisted in the cloth.

Cas stared at Dean, wishing he had the words or power to ease his pain. He lifted his hands and rested them over Dean’s, squeezing them before cupping Dean’s face. He leaned up and pressed his lips against Dean’s forehead, his nose, his lips. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Bullshit!”

Dean shoved him backwards and he tripped, falling to the water with Dean on top of him. He almost expected Dean to attack him in his desperation and knew he wouldn’t fight back. Whatever would help Dean be at peace with this in the end. He stared up at Dean, wishing he could still see his soul, but the view of his corporeal form was just as beautiful, just as breathtaking. Wishing. Always wishing, to be able to make the right choice, to be able to save this bruised and battered human. Wishing in vain, because prayers were rarely answered anymore.

Dean slumped against him, his face buried in Cas’ shirt. “I need you, Cas. Don’t do this. There’s gotta be a way to fix this.”

What was he supposed to say to that? There was a way, but if God hadn’t fixed him before now, he wouldn’t expect help in his last hours. He’d gone to every source he could trust and some he couldn’t. Sam had gone through every book he could find regarding angel lore. There was nothing short of a miracle that could save him.

“Dean.” Cas reached up and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, waiting for Dean to look at him before smiling. He wasn’t afraid of fading away. He’d lived countless years, but the past handful were the only ones that truly mattered. “Thank you, Dean. I cherish the time we spent together.”

“Cas.”

Cas leaned up, pressing their lips together again. “You’ve been wanting to do it on the beach, haven’t you?”

Dean laughed though it hitched in his throat. “Son of a bitch.” He deepened the kiss, moving them out of the water before removing their clothes in an almost reverent manner. Their shared touches were slow and sweet, lingering, committing feel and taste and flawless imperfections to memory.

Dean’s hands were hesitant, his lips trembling where they pressed against flesh, worshiping, and Cas did his best to soothe him, stroking Dean’s hair and ears, caressing his shoulders, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his throat.

Each touch between them was languid, heartbreaking tenderness. He continued stroking along Dean’s face and the back of his neck, tasting and sharing breath, letting Dean take what he needed. He didn’t have much left to give, but he could give this. It was achingly slow and there was pain when Dean finally pushed into him, blinding and exquisite in its newness. “Dean.”

Dean moved faster with a desperation Cas had only seen him show for Sam. “Cas.”

The water was warm around their ankles, surging forward in a counter rhythm to Dean’s thrusts. He felt his body arching into Dean as the familiar pleasure reached its peak, unable to help the scream in his angel voice, though it was faint and faded quickly. He closed his eyes, curling his fingers in Dean’s hair and sinking into the sand as Dean came, replete.

“Cas.”

His fingers loosened and he felt what was left of his wings stretch out next to him, burning away, and he knew the marks they would leave in the sand would be those of torn, ragged, useless wings.

“Cas!”

“Sorry, Dean,” he whispered, unable to open his eyes. The last of his angelic grace burned out and he sank into an enfolding blackness.

_“Castiel!”_

Dean’s voice came to him from far away and he wanted nothing more than to ease the man’s pain, to stay with him until his end and at least not be the one to leave first.

_Choose._

Cas opened his eyes, but all he saw was black. Was this where angels went when they died?

_Choose._

He felt more than heard the word and he reached out, sensing something in the void around him. _Choose what?_

_Grace, or soul?_

Cas didn’t have to think to know his choice. If he chose grace, he could return to Dean’s side, fully powered, able to protect him. But when Dean finally died… they would be ripped apart one way or another. If he chose soul… they could spend the rest of their human lives together, and he was sure they would find each other in the beyond. _Soul._

Binding light surrounded him and he drifted in a twilight of colors, sensation slowly returning to him. He felt he was being carried for an eternity before it stopped and he became aware of warmth in his hair, the sound of ragged breathing.

“Cas don’t do this to me. I need you. I need you to come back to me. Please. Castiel…”

Dean. Dean needed him, and he was right here. He tried to breathe and couldn’t for several attempts before his lungs started working and he wheezed. “Dean.” He managed to open his eyes and came face to face with Dean, staring into red-rimmed green eyes and feeling the unsteady breaths on his cheek.

“Cas? How? You… you were…” Dean stopped, unable to continue and sucked in a steadying breath. “You’re back? You’re… you have your powers back? What happened?” His fingers were trembling as they found Castiel’s and squeezed.

“Human. I… believe I have a soul now…” He wasn’t sure how that was possible, but… “I believe God brought me back and granted me a soul.” That was the only explanation.

Dean stared at him for a long moment, looking him over, throat working as he accepted Cas was still alive, or alive again at least.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“…There is sand in… awkward places. It’s uncomfortable.” Cas grimaced as he shifted, eyes adjusting to the low light enough to see he was on the sofa. Dean laughed, a genuine laugh he hadn’t heard in ages, and he forgot how uncomfortable the sand was as he marveled at how it sounded to human ears.

Dean helped Cas sit up when he’d caught his breath and made sure he could stand. “Shower?”

“Shower,” he agreed.

It took longer than it should have, Cas’ legs were weak and he felt heavy, weighed down in a way he never had before. It took until he was standing under the hot spray of water with Dean supporting him from behind to realize what it was. The weight of a soul. He could feel the water on his skin far more keenly than he had when he’d lost his angelic powers the first time, felt the shiver of delight as the warm spray suffused his body, washed the saltwater from his hair and skin. The emotions that came with it were… overwhelming and he sank into Dean’s chest as he focused on breathing.

“Cas? What’s wrong?” Dean shifted behind him, wrapping an arm around him for support.

Cas turned, looking up at Dean and feeling his breath catching in his throat as he saw Dean for how he looked as a human, without the beauty of his soul beneath his skin and in his eyes. It was almost like when he’d seen him before, when he’d been a human lacking a soul, but far more intense. The flecks in his eyes, the freckles on his face, how he could convey so much with a simple look.

He felt a strange sting in his eyes at the crushing weight of so many undefined emotions coursing through him. The base emotions - anger, doubt, fear - those were familiar, but… the feel of being faced with such simple beauty and being afraid of losing it because life was such a fragile thing filled his chest with an aching warmth.

“Cas, hey, breathe.” Dean tightened his grip, shifting to press Cas into the cold tiles of the wall to help support his weight. He pressed his forehead against Cas’, looking him in the eye. “Breathe.”

Cas sucked in a breath, the cold press of tile on his back helping him to focus. “I’m sorry, it’s just… heavy. Overwhelming.”

“What is?”

“A soul. The emotions… I’ve never felt these things before. How do you stand this?”

Dean offered a crooked smile and pulled back enough to grab a cloth and soaped it up, running it over Cas’ body. “Practice. Count to ten or something. That always used to help me when I was a kid.”

Cas nodded and closed his eyes, shivering under the cloth moving over his body and sucking in a breath as his body heated. At least that was familiar, if more intense than he was used to. He tilted his head back when he felt Dean’s lips on his neck, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders. The cloth moved lower and he hissed with a soft whimpering sound as it rubbed against his ass. “That… did not feel as good as it usually does.”

Dean paused before snorting quietly, meeting Cas’ eyes as he looked up. “You’re sore… That’s going to take some getting used to.” He pressed their lips together, pulling back to give himself a quick wash before helping Cas rinse and dry off. When Cas stumbled, Dean didn’t say anything, just picked him up and carried him the rest of the way and laying him down on the bed.

Cas tugged Dean against him, hardly caring about the soreness. He wanted Dean, wanted to know how it felt to have sex with him as a human with a soul. His hands pressed into Dean’s flesh, feeling the shift of muscles beneath, the warmth of his damp skin, the steady beat of his heart in his chest. When their lips met, he welcomed the entrance of Dean’s tongue, the slick slide of it against his own. It sent shivers of desire through his body, down to his stomach and into his groin, and he moaned as Dean rubbed against him, felt the way their dicks hardened against each other.

He gripped Dean’s hair and pushed his hips up for more friction, biting at his lips, wanting… _more_. “Dean,” he said, surprised at the plea in his voice. He’d never… begged before. As an angel, there had never been any need or reason to. He’d enjoyed sex, but it never overwhelmed him, not like this. He felt like he was drowning in waves of pleasure and the only one who could help him was Dean.

Dean seemed to realize there was something different, too, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed the lube and pressed his fingers in, his touch turning gentle when Cas hissed and his face twisted. “Are you sure?”

Cas nodded, taking a few breaths before he could speak. “This time… Show me what it feels like for you when I take you.”

Dean made a soft sound in his throat and inched his fingers in further. “I can’t pound your ass like an angel.”

Cas smiled and gripped Dean’s arms. “Neither can I now.”

Dean looked at him with a slight frown before seeming to come to some realization, twisting his fingers and smirking as he hit Cas’ prostate and Cas screamed.

Cas dropped his hands to the blankets, gripping them as his hips jerked and pushed down onto Dean’s fingers, another screaming ripping from his throat as Dean found the spot again that made him see spots of white. “Dean.” He gasped for air, feeling sweat prickling his skin. He let out a choked moan of protest when the fingers disappeared, watching as Dean coated himself and sucking in a deep breath as he felt Dean’s tip pushing against him.

His eyes shut tight as Dean pressed into him, feeling the stretch in a way he never had as an angel, the slight burn as he was filled inch by inch. The pain and pleasure merged together, sweeping through his body, clouding his mind and making it difficult to think of anything but _more_. “Dean. Dean…” He sucked in a breath as Dean stabbed into him, pulling Cas’ hips into his thrusts, and when Dean found the angle that hit that spot again, he was lost, unable to remember anything more than an eternity of intense pleasure that wrung every ounce of strength from his body by the time he was granted release.

He was sure he blacked out, at least for a minute, because when he came back to himself, he was sprawled against Dean’s chest, both of them still sucking in quick breaths. His ass was sore in a way he’d never experienced before, but he couldn’t complain with the way his body felt heavy and relaxed, the way Dean’s fingers flexed and stroked his hair.

“Your back’s gonna ache in the morning,” Dean said, voice low with the pull of sleep.

“That’s okay,” Cas said, his voice raw from the screams that had previously escaped only through his angelic voice. He shifted his head to rub his cheek against Dean’s chest, eyes closing as the steady beat of his heart lulled him into sleep.


End file.
